"She has never been here.
This is an inn; the castle is in the village."
"How long have you been here?" asked Pembroke.
"Two weeks, Your Highness." Doubtless he thought us to be high
personages to be inquiring for the Princess.
"Is Stahlberg here?" I asked.
"He is visiting relatives in Coberg," was the answer.
"Do you know where Her Highness is?"
"No." It occurred to me that his voice had taken to sullen tones.
"When will the innkeeper be back?"
The fellow shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot say, Your Highness. The
inn is not open for guests till March."
"Jack," said Pembroke in English, "it is evident that this fellow has
been instructed to be close-lipped. Let us return to the village. The
castle is left." He threw some coins to the servant and they rattled
along the porch. "Come." And we wheeled and trotted away.
I cannot tell how great was my disappointment, nor what I did or said.
The ride back to the village was a dreary affair so far as conversation
went. At the castle we found not a soul.
"It is as I expected," said Pembroke. "Remember that Her Highness is
accustomed to luxury, and that it is not likely for her to spend her
winter in such a deserted place.
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